Tuesday, March 30th, 2010 at
2:33 pm
i’d been writing this. well my lil sis. lemme kno if it’s good and what it improve:
On the Verge of an Angel, Devil, Or Mortal
I was sprawled on the cream couch, inspectin my glistening black nails. My wings ached from playing Heavenly Attack during Gym yesterday. I lay upside down and glued my eyes toward the blank plasma TV screen. I didn’t feel like graduating today. No more friends, no more fun or good times. After today and on, I’ll have to go to some dumb country down below the ground of clouds. I’ll have to watch over the country, grant human’s wishes if they deserve it, make sure if they’re doing some good or bad, blah blah, but no more heaven, tommorow I will be an official Angel. I didn’t want my angel-in-training life to end.
“Eat some delicious rasberry custard tarts that I just whipped up, and get going to school,” ordered my mother as she slammed the platter of pastries and a mug of hot cocoa onto the coffee table placed in front of me. I rolled my eyes and continued to be motionless. Seriously, I feel like we’re nothing alike, she absolutely beautfiul, with her big gorgeous blue eyes and wavy strawberry hair that falls down right above her waist with a petite body unlike me, I have dark eyes and long midnight black hair. I am more of a devious yet stylish clutz and she’s a perfectionist. “Don’t be a procrassinator like your father, Chloe ….” mom reminded me. I suddenly sat upright.
My dad never met me, but my mom told me all sorts of stories about him and how he was courageous,clever and handsome, who’s an angel in Russia, and liked to push things till later. I feel like it’s all a lie, and how he probably is a distgusting sneaky hustling mortal. And my mom is probably telling all these tall tales to make her and myself feel all better.
As I absentmindely bit into the delectable tarts, I started to ponder about how my dad probably is ending up now. I put down my breakfast and made a break to the front door, without a goodbye.
I burst through the doors of the Graceful Wings school. Dumb name, right? The students
checked out my outfit, nodding approvingly but a scared expression was spead across their delicate faces. I had a reputation here and angels always thought I would turn out to be a devil.
I flew with speed, kind of embarrassed,toward my friend,Chelsea’s, locker. Angels around here called us the double C’s. “Hey,” I spoke with a gleeful tone, hiding the sad one.
“Hey, what’s up?” she replied, smacked her colorful locker shut. Without a word, she dropped her textbooks in my hands and started to apply ballerina cherry lipgloss on her tight lips, without letting me answer. “ So what country are you going to after graduation?” she questioned out of nowhere. I winced, the question I despised. I shrugged and handed her books back.
“See you later,” I mumbled as I vividly sped to Cooking class before that tiring late bell rang.
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